Mealtimes
by TheManiacOnWheels
Summary: She's nervous around them all now, even when it comes to food.


**Mealtimes**

Cynder had never been very well fed. Gaul had usually thrown her scraps like a rich man would a starving dog, taking pleasure in seeing her pounce on it hungrily, knowing that she would not be given anything more a for a while.

Dragons ate very differently to the Apes. They didn't screech and fight over rotting flesh; in fact they didn't really make any noise at all. And they shared it. Apes never offered food to anyone, and whenever there was a morsel lying around, they would quarrel over it and the strongest would get the goods.

She stared wide eyed at the Guardians, all eating from the one bloody carcass. When they caught sight of her, they courteously stepped aside to let her eat. For one unused to such kindness, it frightened her. She had eventually accepted their reassurances, and Cyril, the ice Guardian's acid remarks. But in a place unfamiliar too her, surrounded by dragons who she had once tried to kill, it was all too much for her to take, and she had ripped a small hunk of red meat and scurried off to eat it alone.

It was still more than she'd ever eaten at one time, and sat heavily in her starvation shrunken belly. She sighted Spyro staring with a repulsed expression at the feeding dragon Guardians, and at her silent inquiry, he had admitted that he had never consumed another creature's flesh in his life. In the swamps, you made do with what you had. Dragonflies never killed for food.

Yet another odd side of him. A dragon that didn't eat meat? Cynder had only ever been exposed to the tough, hard-to-digest scraps that the Apes didn't consider worth eating.

She wondered what he did eat, if not meat. None of the mushrooms and plants scattered around the Temple looked edible. And white meat was probably just as inexcusable to him as red meat, so the fish that darted around in the Silver River were out of the question. If truth be told, she wasn't fond of them either. They were entertaining to try and catch, but she didn't like the slippery, leathery feel.

Despite herself, her stomach grumbled wistfully, her appetite, vague as it was, not yet sated. Spyro glanced at her. "Hungry?" he asked, grinning at her startled expression.

"I guess so," Cynder admitted, embarrassed. She wasn't used to being good-naturedly teased; the Apes had never much indulged in anything other than prodding her painfully with sharp sticks.

Spyro blinked, then disappeared inside the room in which the carcass was, then returned with a bloody lump. Spitting it out, he grinned ruefully, and nosed it towards her almost shyly.

Cynder could only stare for a moment, a little intimidated, then hesitantly swallowed it. Spyro shook his head. "I don't know how you can eat that," he said, raising a forefoot to his muzzle and tried clumsily to rub the blood from his snout.

Cynder gave the dragon equivalent of a shrug, "I guess it's kind of natural for me. I…I've never eaten anything else."

"I'm not trying to make you feel guilty," Spyro began, but Cynder interrupted him with shake of her head. "I know."

An awkward silence issued between them, then Spyro said, "Ignitus tried to get me to eat meat once…I couldn't get the taste out for days."

Cynder, surprised at this confiding murmur, looked at him inquiringly. Why was he telling her these things? He couldn't trust her that much…Could he?  
Quietly, she asked him, "Why are you telling me?"

Spyro cocked his head, "Am I boring you?" he sounded a little hurt.

"No," she said hastily, "no. It's just…you're telling me these things like you…like you trust me."

"And?" His tone was surprised.

Cynder gaped at him, "And, you shouldn't trust me. I tried to kill you…and you talk to me like I'm…like I'm innocent, a friend."

"Cynder," Spyro said seriously, "I trust you. You are my friend. What you did wasn't your fault, and I don't blame you. Nobody does. Well, maybe Sparx might, but he doesn't understand."

Cynder turned away, trying to hide her face, overwhelmed by sorrow and guilt that they could forgive her, but she could never forgive herself.

Suddenly, she felt a clout her on the shoulder. Surprised, she glanced at the purple dragon, and he gave small smile, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, "Tag," he said.

**END**


End file.
